On Sun, 23 May 2010 15:22:44 +0100, JonG
wrote:


I was lucky. Jobs done under local anaesthetic, cleaned out and
stitched up, no tendon damage.

On antibiotics, painkillers and whisky now.

Oooh, ouch.
GWS, Ron

Laugh, I nearly did.

On the Sat morning, early, a young lady appeared near my bed.
"Wossa Knee-um?" she spake.
"Parding" I said. "Wossa yer Knee-um?" she quoth.

It took several iterations before I was able to determine that she was
enquiring as to my identity.

I don't talk fluent Mumbles

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